Shawn Gets The Yips And An Attempt On His Life
by IGetBoredEasily
Summary: What if Salamatchia was actually after EVERYONE listed on the case? He must have been pretty angered by Shawn taking the money . . . One-Shot. No Pairings. Guaranteed Shawn whump, and major spoilers for 'Shawn Gets The Yips' (season 4 episode 5). Lot of action . . . do read!


**Shawn Gets the Yips . . . And An Attempt On His Life.**

 **A/N: What if Mr. Salamatchia was actually targeting everyone on the Petrovich case?**

 **Just an One-Shot that popped into my head while re-re-re-re-re-watching this episode . . . please review and let me know what you think of it!**

 **DISCALIMER** **: I do not own Psych, or it would have been a lot more whumpier. And neither do I own** _ **SPEED, LEATHAL WEAPON 2**_ **or Danny Glover's name. Heck, I don't even own a motorized vehicle, my mom does. Here goes . . . . .**

 **Previously . . .**

GUS: Bomb Squad is on its way. How did you figure this thing was booby-trapped?

SHAWN: I saw that Petrovich went after McNabb on the local news. I put it all together. *Gasps* I can't believe we're being targeted for a case that we never worked on.

GUS: Well, at least we got paid for it.

SHAWN: Really? I'm starring in the elliptical version of _Speed_ and you're guilting me over money?

GUS: Just for the record, it's more like Lethal Weapon 2. The one where Danny Glover found the bomb attached to his toilet.

SHAWN: Oh, God. I would kill to be on a toilet right now. *Panting during the silence* I'm not going to die on this thing, am I?

GUS: Don't think like that, Shawn. Whatever happens, I'll be right here. *Turns around to look out of the window* Where the heck are they?

SHAWN: Gus, I'm really tired.

GUS: Wait, wait, no, no, no. Just hang in there, Shawn. They'll be here any second now.

SHAWN: I just . . . . I just got to say *gasps* that *gasps* . . .

GUS: I know.

SHAWN: I got eight hundred for the Petrovich case, not five.

GUS: I forgive you.

*door slamming close*

JULIET: Shawn, are you all right? Where's the bomb?

SHAWN: *voice cracks* It's down there.

JULIET: Why are you exercising?

GUS: If his heart rate drops below one-fifty he's toast. *Gives the bottle to her*

JULIET: *Taking the bottle from Gus, and glancing down at the note* Oh, my God, I wrote this note.

GUS: What?

JULIET: I left it for Shawn as a motivator. I do the same thing before each workout. It's a trick my trainer taught me.

SHAWN: What kind of sick trainer have you been working with?

GUS: Wait a second, so what is the beeping, blinking thing?

*Juliet ducks down and pulls out their cordless phone from where they thought the bomb was.*

GUS: We're idiots.

SHAWN: *Panting* At least I can stop. Oh, thank God. *gasps* Thank God.

*collapses*

 **Presently . . .**

SHAWN: Hey, it's McNabb. I didn't know he was out of the hospital yet. Buzz, buddy!

BUZZ: *turns around* Oh, hey, guys.

GUS: Wow. That bomb did a number on your eyebrow.

JULIET: Blew it clean off.

SHAWN: Amazing. Just the brow.

BUZZ: It's okay. I've still got one good one.

JULIET: *Staring and then shaking her head* How you feeling?

BUZZ: The doctors say I have a severe concussion, but I fine feel. Plus I've lost parts of three toes.

SHAWN: That's terrible, man. *Coughs*

BUZZ: Yeah . . . hey, what's going on with you, Shawn? Sounds like you have a tickle in your throat.

SHAWN: Oh, no. I'm just a little dehydrated.

BUZZ: Oh, jeez. Here I am going on and on about losing toes and getting blown twenty feet into a swimming pool and you're dying of thirst. Let's get you some water. *Moves to fetch water.*

SHAWN: No, Buzz, Buzz, I can get it, man.

BUZZ: No, no, it's okay. I can . . .

SHAWN: No, no, no, you stay here. You know, do whatever you want. *sniffs*

Shawn leaves Gus and Jules with Buzz, making his way down the corridor, greeting an officer or two with a nod and a grin. Reaching the water bottle stand near the Records' Cabinet, he grabs a glass, wondering how the cordless phone actually got into the elliptical. Shawn was pretty sure it wasn't his fault this time . . . despite Gus's accusation. Filling the paper cup to the brim, he started to bring it to his lips, and then froze.

'Shawn Spencer, nice to finally meet you,' the man with the white moustache said in a low voice. He took a step closer to Shawn, so that his gun was hidden from view, covered by the Records' Cabinet.

Meanwhile, the knobs in Shawn's brain turned as he struggled to place why he felt like he knew this guy. It wasn't Petrovich . . . Shawn zoned into a detail . . . the newspaper article! The picture of the funeral . . . the man standing at the headstone, one hand placed on the name of Bobby Salamatchia.

'You―' Shawn was cut off by a vicious snarl from the gunman, 'Softly! Or I will shoot you. And trust me, I have nothing to lose . . .'

There was a change in the emotions in the man's eyes, and Shawn immediately took it to be a confirmation for his assumption. Huh, that sounded catchy . . . confirmation for the assumption.

'Okay, okay, sorry man!' Shawn hurried to whisper, realizing that no one was around here. Everyone was either crowded around Buzz or at Lassiter's table or in the Briefing Area, where chief was telling everyone . . . . . something. 'I know who you are, man. You're the father. You're Papa Salamatchia. Looks like Petrovich wasn't exactly up for revenge . . . but you were.'

Then Shawn heard the cocking of the gun, and realized he had to change tactics.

'I mean, I get it,' Shawn said, with a carefree-ish smile. 'Petrovich kills your son . . . pumps drugs into schools . . . I mean, the son of a bitch targets school children. He is the worst kind of scum there ever was. And then he gets locked up on just a guns charge? And now . . . he's just been released from prison. That is plain outrageous.'

Shawn looks around, scanning the area for someone who was looking in his direction, and not at Lassie. Wait . . . Lassie was back as point on the case?

Wait. Never mind, Shawn has a gun pointed at his chest.

'Yes, it is. So what exactly did you tell the chief when she called you during the trial?' his attacker said, tilting his head a bit.

'Um . . .' Shawn's eyes swiped around the room. No one was looking at him. Gus was probably in front of the crowd . . . Jules, too. Damn it.

'Is that what you said?' Salamatchia asked, gesturing with his gun. Shawn realized he hadn't answered his question. Too distracted about creating a diversion or about trying to get a message to someone, Shawn mumbled, 'The chief called to pay us . . . we didn't really work on it.'

Finally, Shawn figured out a way to create a diversion. His throat was still scratchy . . . and he was pretty much madder than mad at fate for making him think and exercise with a dry throat.

Then he looked back at Salamatchia. And he realized what he had just said. Salamatchia's face was red, eyes blazing in anger.

'You didn't work on the case. But you took. The. Money.' He got angrier with every word, especially the last three words.

'Huh, that makes me a horrible person, I know,' Shawn replied with a shrug. 'But I've already promised to do the thing in the box with the guy in the . . . thing.' Then Shawn threw the water from his glass on Salamatchia's face. Seizing the opportunity as he gasped from the impact of the cool water in his eyes, Shawn grabbed at the gun . . . and shouted, 'Over here! The shooter's here!'

But he didn't need to, the commotion caused by Shawn's sudden movement and Salamatchia's gasping had attracting the gun wielding population of the SBPD with their guns drawn. Before Shawn could jump out of the way . . . and let the police handle the matter, Salamatchia recovered, wrapped an arm around Shawn's throat, putting the gun, safety off, to his head.

'Mr. Salamatchia,' Lassiter said, gun trained on the shooter. 'Put your gun down, hands in the air . . . you are completely surrounded.'

'I don't think so,' Salamatchia growled, tightening his grasp around Shawn's neck, making the fake psychic gasp.

'Sir,' Juliet said, realizing Shawn was choking, struggling against his attacker's clutch on his already very dry throat. 'You don't want to do this. Think about the consequences.'

'I have nothing to lose. I lost my only son . . . because of you all. And now this guy waltzes in, and gets paid for the case even though he never worked to bring justice to my son? I went through a divorce, I have no one to support or care for . . . and I demand revenge.'

'It wasn't Shawn's fault that there was no evidence to link Petrovich to your son's death! He wasn't even hired. And even he knows that it was wrong of him to take the money.'

Shawn tried to agree, but it was slightly hard because his lungs were getting no air at all.

'Will you at least pause for a while? He had a killer workout this morning!' Gus cried.

'Guster, stand back!' Lassiter barked as Salamatchia said, 'Yeah? I wonder who put the phone in the elliptical and the bottle on the table near it!'

Shawn's eyes widened at Gus, mainly because of the inability to be able to breathe, but also because he was proven innocent of losing the cordless phone this time.

'Why are you doing this, sir? Just because Petrovich was put in jail for his crimes? I'm sorry, but I can only see the reason being that you have been driven over the edge from grief,' Lassiter said, trying to get a clear shot at Salamatchia . . . and a shot where he wouldn't have to damage some important organ.

Shawn tried to open his mouth to say something . . . maybe perform the wrap-up, as he felt the grip on his neck loosen a bit due to the shaking of Salamatchia's hand. But all he could manage was to gasp. Spots that had been appearing in front of his eyes cleared up a bit and he struggled a bit more, tugging down the hand crushing his wind pipe.

That only attracted Salamatchia's attention and he tightened his grip even more (as if that was possible), the edge of his pistol's muzzle digging into his temple, slicing open a cut in his skin. This time, Shawn's brain stopped following the conversation and spots darkened his vision rapidly. That's when they all heard a loud bang. Salamatchia ducked, taking Shawn down with him to escape the bullet which seemed to have originated from someplace behind their backs. The turn in his body gave some air to his lungs. Shawn's vision cleared slightly and out of the corner of his eye, he could make out that the shooter was the chief.

Her gun was still trained on Salamtchia, but there was no way she could nail her target without hurting her consultant. Somehow, with strength he didn't know he still had in his feet of lead, he brought up his foot as Salamatchia straightened up, striking the guy where it hurt. Slightly dazed by the sudden and unexpected attack, Salamatchia cried out in pain and Shawn was wrenched away from him. Gasping in as much air as he could, Shawn rested his forehead on the cool wooden floor of the station. Slowly, the feeling of fresh, cool air spread through his lungs after several gulps of oxygen.

Feeling returned in his arms and legs and they started feeling lighter . . . which was good because a moment earlier, it felt like they were made of lead.

Shawn missed the arrest, or Salamatchia nailing Shawn's move on Lassie . . . as Gus and Juliet helped him sit up against the cabinet. Buzz was, meanwhile, trying to comfort Shawn, bringing him up to date with what was happening, in his own concussed state. Jules had daubed a layer of liquid band-aid on his cut on his temple. Gus was rubbing his back.

And Shawn hadn't registered those things yet. Buzz was telling him . . . or trying to. And since Shawn was able to make sense of what Buzz was saying, he figured he would be fine. So he nodded when Gus asked him that, bumping the cocoa fist extended towards him. then he turned his head a bit, meeting Vick's gaze, giving her a nod of thanks and she smiles back at him, 'You're welcome.'


End file.
